


Maybe if I tell myself enough (I'll get over you)

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Friends (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Reunions, Scientist!Derek, The One With All the Cheesecakes, except this has literally nothing to do with cheesecakes, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Derek?” he asks in astonishment.</p><p>Derek’s frozen in front of him, eyes boring into Stiles’ like he can’t believe it’s really him.</p><p>“I thought you were in Russia?” Stiles asks because it looks like Derek is having trouble forming words. Derek’s been in Russia for five years. Stiles met him two weeks before he left. Stiles <em>fell in love</em> with him two weeks before he left.</p><p>“I- I am,” Derek stutters. “I’m only here for the night,” he adds apologetically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe if I tell myself enough (I'll get over you)

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was originally posted on my [tumblr](http://littlespooneven.tumblr.com/post/95041533137/the-one-with-all-the-cheesecakes) as part of the Friends meme I was answering but since it's almost at a thousand note (what the heck??!11?!?) i decided to post it here too and add in some flashback scenes ^.^

Stiles is late for his dinner with Lydia.

They’ve been planning this for weeks since they’ve both had to reschedule at least four times. She’s even making him wear a suit and take her to the fancy restaurant that neither of them can afford. Lydia likes to do their monthly bitching sessions in style.

He’s hurrying down the street, trying to respond to her increasingly threatening text messages when he walks straight into someone else. “I’m sorry!” he apologises quickly. “I wasn’t looking where I was-“

The words die in his throat when he sees who he bumped into.

“Derek?” he asks in astonishment.

Derek’s frozen in front of him, eyes boring into Stiles’ like he can’t believe it’s really him.

“I thought you were in Russia?” Stiles asks because it looks like Derek is having trouble forming words. Derek’s been in Russia for five years. Stiles met him two weeks before he left. Stiles  _fell in love_ with him two weeks before he left.

“I- I am,” Derek stutters. “I’m only here for the night,” he adds apologetically.

Stiles feels his face fall – he hadn’t even realised he was getting his hopes up in the first place. “Oh,” is all he can think to say.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Derek asks suddenly before his eyes flit down to Stiles’ attire. “What am I saying? Of course you are, dressed like that. I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not,” Stiles interrupts, surprising himself but ploughing on anyway. It’s  _Derek_. “I’m not doing anything.” Lydia can kill him tomorrow if it means he can have this night.

Derek stares at him for a long time, trying to figure out if he’s lying probably, but then he starts to smile. “Wanna go somewhere?”

Stiles nods fervently, tentatively reaching over and taking Derek’s hand. He still feels a shiver run through him like he used to. The only thing that’s surprising is how unsurprised he is.

*

_“Lydia, look at that guy!” Stiles whispers, nodding at the table behind the couch they’re sitting on._

_Lydia raises an eyebrow before subtly turning her head to the side. She looks back to Stiles with a huge smirk on his face. “Nice taste,” she comments airily._

_The guy has dark hair, sinfully perfect stubble and thick-rimmed black glasses. Stiles is in love. And when the guy laughs - a quiet, embarrassed kind of gesture that makes him duck his head and his eyes crinkle in the corner - Stiles is completely, one hundred percent done for._

_“I’m going to marry him,” he says decisively._

_Lydia scoffs. “Slow down, Casanova. How about you find out his name first?”_

_Stiles doesn’t even get a chance to consider it when Anna, the barista, is hopping up on the little stage and announcing someone on. Stiles watches in surprise as the blonde sitting with the hot guy stands up, picking up a guitar Stiles is just now noticing, and heads up to the stage. She sits down, smiling confidently and introduces herself as Erica._

_Erica’s a good singer. Stiles thinks. He doesn’t really notice because he keeps watching the way the guy watches her proudly, adorably mouthing the words along with her._

_Lydia huffs next to him when Stiles hasn’t looked away from the guy for at least seven minutes straight and tells him to get his ass over there and introduce himself. Its quickly dissolves into a lot of whisper-yelling that is apparently louder than he thought because suddenly the entire room is going silent and Erica’s not playing anymore._

_“Excuse me! Noisy people!” Oh shit. She’s talking to them. “Wanna tell me what’s so important it’s worth interrupting my set for?”_

_Stiles slowly looks away from Lydia to face her, cringing when he sees the expectant look on her face. “Nope! Sorry, we’ll be quiet.”_

_“No please,” Erica insists. “I’m sure what you had to say was really important.”_

_Stiles clears his throat, casts a glance over at the guy who’s frowning slightly, eyes flickering between Stiles and Erica. “Um, well.” Stiles hesitates, unsure of what to say, before he thinks, fuck it. They haven’t been going to the coffee shop long, they can totally find a new place if Stiles becomes the laughing stock. “My friend Lydia, here, was angry at me because I kept talking about how attractive I thought your friend was but I wouldn’t go over and talk to him. And uh, then you started yelling and now we’re here.”_

_Erica’s mouth drops open in a tiny ‘o’ and Stiles is just waiting for the laughter to start except-_

_“His name’s Derek, he’s single and he likes white caramel Frappuccinos,” Erica tells him, throwing him a wink before she starts singing again._

_Stiles gapes at her before his gaze snaps to her friend –_ Derek _– who’s staring at Stiles in shock._

_Stiles gives him a tentative wave and Derek’s expression melts into a bashful smile._

_Oh yeah, Stiles is in love alright._

 

*

He texts Lydia with his free hand while Derek hails down a taxi. He tells her he’s sorry, he loves her and he’ll explain  _everything_  tomorrow but he has to cancel. He shuts his phone off before she can reply.

A cab pulls up in front of them and Derek holds the door open for him, smiling bashfully. Stiles feels himself falling all over again – he’s pretty sure he never actually stopped.

The cab ride is tense. Their joined hands rest on the seat between them and Stiles keeps wanting to say something but then stopping himself. There’re too many things he want to say. He wants to know  _everything_. He wants to  _tell_  Derek everything.

But they don’t have any time.

Derek seems to be feeling the same way. Stiles has noticed him opening his mouth at least half a dozen times only to not end up saying anything.

For now he settles for squeezing Derek’s hand in his own and trying to use that to keep himself grounded.

*

When they finally make it to Derek’s hotel Derek all but throws money at the cab driver and tells him to keep the change, pulling Stiles out of the taxi behind him.

They just about make it to the elevator before Derek’s pressing him up against the wall and crushing their mouths together.

It’s the most blissful relief Stiles has ever felt.

He doesn’t waste any time, fisting his hands in Derek’s shirt and kissing back with everything he has, pulling him in closer even though there’s hardly an inch of space between them as it is.

“I missed you so much,” Derek breathes into his mouth, fingers squeezing Stiles’ hips so tight he knows there’ll be bruises tomorrow. He doesn’t care. He wants that. He wants to be reminded of this. For as long as he can.

The elevator dings before he can reply and Derek is just barely pulling away from him, catching his hand again and dragging him down the hall. Stiles contents himself with pressing right up against Derek’s back and mouthing at his neck while Derek fumbles with getting the key card into the door.

They make it inside – barely – and Stiles immediately starts stripping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes.

Derek manages to get his henley off before he’s catching hold of Stiles again, reeling him in and kissing him breathless.

The room’s small so the bed is  _right there_  – it makes moving blindly through the room ten times easier. Stiles falls back with a bounce, Derek following him down.

And then it’s all a blur – clothes hastily being tugged off, scorching hot touches, dizzying kisses, presses of hips and hands that make Stiles feels like he’s on fire.

Their first time in five years wasn’t going to be anything other than rushed but Stiles doesn’t care. He couldn’t convince himself to slow down even if he was working at full brain capacity right now.

This is  _Derek_. Over him, under him,  _surrounding him_. This is the person Stiles has been simultaneously waiting for and trying to get over for five years.

Stiles doesn’t even know how to do anything other than touch him right now, breathe him in, tell himself this is real until he finally believes it.

*

_“Hey handsome,” Stiles smirks, leaning against the doorjamb and eyeing Derek appreciatively – apparently the scientist look does it for him. “How about a quickie in the lab?”_

_Derek looks up from his telescope, huffing a laugh. “Sounds kinda unsanitary,” he replies casually._

_“Mm,” Stiles hums, pushing himself off the wall and sauntering over to Derek, slipping into the space between Derek and the table. “Are you sure I couldn’t persuade you?” he asks coyly, fiddling with the collar on Derek’s lab coat for a second before using it to yank him closer._

_Derek’s hands land on the table on either side of Stiles’ hips as he’s pulled forward. He looks surprised for a second but then he grins, ducking in to kiss Stiles. Stiles kisses back enthusiastically, sliding his hands over Derek’s shoulders and laughing against his mouth when Derek’s hands fly to his waist and heft him up onto the table._

_Stiles is about ten seconds away from dragging Derek onto the table with him when Boyd comes rushing into the room._

_“Derek! Derek, we got it!”_

_Derek breaks away from him to look over Stiles’ shoulder at Boyd. In the whole time Stiles has known Boyd – which hasn’t been that long, to be fair – he’s never heard him sound so excited._

_“What?” Derek’s hands slip off Stiles and he moves over to his friend in confusion._

_“The grant money for our research, we got it!” Boyd announces, waving a bunch of papers in Derek’s face. “We’re going to Russia.”_

_“We got it?” Derek asks blankly before his expression breaks into a wide grin. “We got it?!”_

_“Yeah, man,” Boyd smiles broadly._

_Stiles feels something cold settle in his stomach as he’s left sitting on the table. “Russia?” he hears himself asking faintly._

_And suddenly Derek stops, turns back to Stiles with the most conflicted expression. “Yeah,” he says quietly. He walks back over to Stiles, settling his hands on his hips again. “We’ve been waiting a year for this to come through. I applied before I met you,” he adds, some desperation creeping into his voice._

_“It’s okay,” Stiles smiles, swallowing hard and putting his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “It’s okay. Great, even. I’m so happy for you.”_

_Derek gives him a weak smile back._

_“When do you leave?”_

_“New year’s day,” Boyd answers gently, looking genuinely apologetic he even has to say it._

_“Oh,” is all Stiles can think to say. That’s four days away. Four days and Derek will be gone. Derek’s hands squeeze his sides as he moves into the space between Stiles legs, hugging him tightly and burying his face in Stiles’ neck._

_Derek mumbles, “I’m sorry,” against his skin but all Stiles can think is one thing._

_It’s not going to last._

*

They’re lying in bed, tangled in the sheets. Stiles is on his back, slightly tilted to the left so he can look at Derek and Derek is lying on his stomach, face turned toward Stiles and idly playing with their fingers, knotted together in the space between them.

“How’s your research going?” Stiles asks quietly, watching every minuscule move Derek makes and trying to imprint it into his brain forever.

Derek looks up from their joined hands and the look he gives Stiles makes his breath hitch. “Slowly,” Derek sighs, huffing a laugh. “But we’re getting there.”

Stiles nods wordlessly. He should’ve known as much, Derek’s research project was supposed to be an incredibly long process. It’s why they hadn’t tried long-distance in the first place because it seemed like he might never come back.

Derek shifts closer for a second, pushing himself up and leaning over to kiss Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles must be making it pretty obvious how he feels then.

“What about you?” Derek murmurs, folding their fingers together more solidly. “Last time I was here you were still in college.”

Stiles smiles shakily – he remembers. “You’re now looking at one of the esteemed members of NYPD,” he grins, feeling his heart clench when Derek smiles back. His eyes crinkle in the corners and everything.

“That’s so great,” he says earnestly. “Your dad must be so proud of you.”

“Pretty sure he cried when I graduated from the Police Academy,” Stiles snorts, lips tugging up fondly at the memory.

They lapse into silence again and Stiles tries valiantly not to move into Derek’s space before he asks himself what the fuck he’s doing trying to play it coy. This is his  _one night_  with Derek. Potentially his last night _ever_  with Derek. If he wants to curl around him then he’s damn well going to.

Stiles pushes himself forward, slipping his hand out of Derek’s as Derek shifts onto his side and opens his arms. Stiles doesn’t need further prompting, pressing in close until they’re almost chest to chest and burying his face in Derek’s neck.

Derek lets out a sigh as his arms wind around Stiles’ back, dropping a kiss on his hair.

“I miss you,” Stiles says, words muffled against the skin of Derek’s collarbone.

“I’m right here,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, imploring himself not to cry. Derek’s here.  _He’s really here_. But tomorrow night Stiles is still gonna go to bed alone. “Not for long,” he replies resignedly.

He hears Derek sigh, feels his chest expand and concave with it, and then Derek’s fingers are trailing over his jaw, making Stiles actually look at him. Derek doesn’t comfort him because what’s he supposed to say? That it’s not true? It is.

Instead he kisses Stiles. It’s one of those long, lingering kisses that makes Stiles’ heart beat twice as fast. Derek’s the only person who’s ever been able to kiss him like that.

They’ve barely parted when Stiles is pushing back again, slotting their lips together and curling his fingers around Derek’s wrist where his hand is still cupping Stiles’ jaw. They end up trading lazy kisses for a few minutes before they eventually settle against each other again.

“How’s Boyd?” Stiles asks, fixated on running his index finger in circles over Derek’s heart.

“Good, better now that Erica’s over there with us,” Derek replies, voice becoming tinged with affection.

“They’re still together?” Stiles asks in surprise. “That’s good. I liked them together.”

“Boyd had no idea she was moving over,” Derek tells him animatedly. “She planned this big surprise. It  _killed_  me not to tell Boyd anything.”

Stiles smiles, presses it into the skin of Derek’s chest like a brand, and imagines what it would’ve been like if he’d surprised Derek like that. “I can imagine.”

Derek hums, idly gliding a hand up Stiles’ back. “Where were you supposed to be tonight?”

Stiles pauses but Derek immediately starts speaking again, “And don’t tell me you didn’t have plans because I know you did, Stiles.”

“Was supposed to have dinner with Lydia,” he replies quietly. “S’fine, she can be mad at me tomorrow.”

Derek stills, he stays quiet for a long time until he eventually says, “Are you two…?”

“Together?” Stiles fills in. “No. It was just our monthly catch-up dinner which is really just an excuse to bitch about life in a fancy restaurant.” Derek huffs a laugh underneath him. “Do you really think I’d be here if I were seeing someone?” he asks then.

“Do you want me to lie and say that if you showed up in Russia for a night and I was with someone else that I  _wouldn’t_  forget the rest of the world existed as soon as I looked into your eyes?” Derek asks lightly even though the question is as heavy as they come.

“So _are_  you seeing someone?” Stiles urges with some trepidation.

“No, Stiles, I’m not.”

“Good,” he says, punctuating it with a kiss to Derek’s chest.

“So tell me about your friends,” Derek requests then. “Tell me about your life.”

And Stiles does. He tells him every little detail he can think of until his voice is hoarse from talking and Derek does the same.

They fuck twice more and then again in the shower when they’re trying to clean up. They sit on the balcony with nothing but a thin sheet and each other’s arms to keep them warm and watch the sunrise. Kissing and touching and whispering and if Stiles closes his eyes he can pretend they’re sitting on the fire escape of his college apartment, bundled up in blankets and watching the fireworks on New Year’s Eve five years earlier.

It isn’t until around 7am that they just stop. They don’t talk or fuck or do anything really, besides lie together and stare at each other, cataloguing every single tiny detail of each other’s faces and trying to commit it to memory. Hands holding on just a little bit too tight, legs a little bit more tangled than they need to be.

Stiles eventually breaks the silence around 9am. “What times is your flight?” His voice is rough from overuse followed by not speaking at all.

“I have to be at the airport for eleven,” Derek murmurs, thumb brushing over Stiles’ cheek.

“I’ll come with you,” Stiles tells him. It’s not a suggestion.

Derek just nods and moves forward, kissing him once and then releasing him, returning to watching Stiles with half-lidded eyes.

If Stiles could stop time, he’d do it right now.

*

_Stiles has been hugging him for at least ten minutes, if not longer. He can’t let go yet. He doesn’t want to._

_“Stiles,” Derek whispers, patting his back. “Stiles, I have to go.”_

_Stiles pulls back, looks at him with unshed tears in his eyes and can’t even attempt to smile. “I know,” he nods resignedly, curling his fingers in Derek’s jacket lapels and trying with everything he has to convince himself to let go._

_Derek lifts a hand, cradles his jaw and gives him the most heart-breaking smile. “Thank you so much for letting me have this.” His other hand fits over Stiles’ heart as he says it and now Stiles is definitely crying, can’t even pretend he’s not. Derek smiles sadly, brushing a tear away with his thumb and leaning in to kiss him softly._

_Stiles whispers, “I love you,” as Derek’s pulling away and it has him immediately leaning back in again, mumbling “I love you” over and over again against Stiles’ lips, punctuating it with kisses._

_And then he’s pulling back. And then he’s letting go. And then he’s gone._

*

The goodbye at the airport is even worse the second time around.

Derek hugs him like he’s never gonna let go but that bodes well for Stiles because he doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

When Derek finally does pull back, his hands are still clutching Stiles’ biceps and his eyes are shining. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d think Derek was about to cry. “We’re gonna stay in touch this time,” Derek says firmly, squeezing Stiles’ arms. “I’ll pay your phone bills, I don’t care.”

Stiles smiles softly, reaching a hand up and brushing the hair back off Derek’s face – it’s still flattened on one side from when they’d been in bed this morning. “How about we skype instead? It’s cheaper and I get to see your face.”

Derek nods again, blinking furiously as he watches the queue for the security check shorten. He looks back at Stiles with an expression that feels like a punch to the stomach. Stiles can only give him a half-hearted smile in return, fingers twisting in Derek’s jacket.

Derek pulls him into a bruising kiss and Stiles feels  _everything_. Everything they can’t say and everything they want to. Derek kisses him once more, then again and again and Stiles needs to stop this now or he’s gonna have a panic attack in the middle of the airport.

“Call me the second you land,” he whispers against Derek’s lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to try and stop his tears. He feels Derek nod against him and then he’s leaving, hands slowly pulling out of Stiles grasp until they’re not touching anymore.

It’s over.

*

Stiles cries the whole way home in the taxi, doesn’t give a shit what the cabbie thinks of him. He considers going into his own apartment but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to look Scott in the eye without breaking down so he goes across the hall to Lydia’s. Maybe getting yelled at will make him feel better.

He opens the door and watches Lydia’s gaze fly to him as her expression immediately sours. “Well look who’s finally decided to show up with an explanation,” she says primly.

Stiles sighs, nudging the door closed behind him and heading into the living room. “Sorry,” he says tiredly.

Lydia stills. Stiles watches her gaze take in his red-rimmed eyes, blotchy face and the hickey that’s peeking out underneath his collar. “What happened?” she asks carefully.

“Derek,” is all Stiles says, feeling his face starting to crumble.

“Derek?” Lydia repeats, looking confused.

“Derek.  _Derek Hale_. Derek who I fell in love with five years ago when we first started going to the coffee shop. Derek, the scientist, who moved to Russia two weeks later. Derek who I bumped into last night and spun my whole world upside down for thirteen perfect hours.  _That_  Derek.”

He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Lydia’s standing up, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down onto the couch. “ _Stiles_ ,” she whispers. She sounds heartbroken for him and he hates it.

He just buries his head in her neck and tucks his legs up underneath him, lets her arms circle him and pull him in.

Barely twenty seconds have passed when the front door bursts open and Scott’s standing in the threshold, his phone pressed to his ear. “Stiles?” he asks worriedly.

Allison’s door opens then and she appears with a sad smile, her phone in her hand. “We were talking on the phone when I heard you yelling,” she explains apologetically.

Stiles lifts his head from Lydia’s shoulder and gives Scott a watery smile. “Hey Scotty,” he mumbles tremulously.

Scott drops his phone on the counter and races over, taking up the empty space on the couch next to Stiles and throwing his arms around him. In a matter of seconds Stiles is enveloped in three pairs of arms and he appreciates it, he does, but none of them are the right pair of arms.

“Where is he?” Scott asks gently when Stiles has managed to calm down enough that his tears are falling silently.

“Gone,” Stiles replies thickly. “He was only here for the night. I took him to the airport this morning.”

Lydia kisses the side of his head and Scott drops his chin onto Stiles’ shoulder like a sad puppy. Allison squeezes his hand tightly.

It’s not enough.

*

Scott’s in bed the following night when he gets a phone call. “’Lo?” he mumbles sleepily, squinting at his alarm clock that reads 3am.

“Scott?” a voice he doesn’t recognise asks.

“Who is this?” Scott asks confusedly, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“It’s Derek.” There’s a pause and then, “Stiles’ Derek. I need your help.”

*

Stiles’ life after Derek leaves is much like his life before Derek came back. Except now there’s skype. And Derek’s messy hair and glasses and soft smiles and Stiles wants him so bad he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out and touching his laptop screen.

He’s coping. Kind of.

His heart feels like it’s being ripped in two every time he sees Derek’s face and he can’t remember how to sleep alone – not that he and Derek even did any sleeping during their night together – but he’s still carrying on with his life so he figures that’s gotta count for something, right?

*

He’s climbing up the stairs to his apartment and feeling particularly sorry for himself. He hasn’t spoken to Derek in two days because he was away at some conference to do with his research project. And Stiles really doesn’t know how they made it five years without speaking when he can’t even last two days now without wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.

He lets himself into the apartment, frowning when he sees the lights are off – Scott texted him earlier and said he’d be here when Stiles got home. “Scott?” he calls out, fumbling for the light switch next to the door.

There’s a person in the living room but it’s not Scott.

“Derek?” His breath catches when he says it; it comes out broken and cracked.

Derek nods, doesn’t even speak, just nods. Almost smiling, almost not.

“You’re here?”

Derek nods again, smile breaking free this time. “I’m here.”

Stiles doesn’t waste time, he strides purposefully across the room, hands digging into Derek’s shoulders and pulling him into a fervent kiss.

Derek kisses back, fingers skating up Stiles’ sides until they’re threading in his hair.

“H-how…?” Stiles asks breathlessly, doesn’t even give Derek a chance to answer before he’s kissing him again.

Derek releases him reluctantly, resting his forehead against Stiles and closing his eyes briefly before opening them again and smiling. “I worked it out with my coordinator. I’m splitting my time: six months here and six months in Russia. The team can manage without me on site for a while.”

“You’re staying here for six months?” Stiles gasps, hands tightening on Derek’s shoulders. That can’t be right; he misheard, this is dream conjured up out of desperation, it’s not- it can’t be-

Derek nods, smile widening. “I figure we can try for six months. This is our trial period as much as it’s mine. We can see if this works, see if it’s something worth keeping. And then- if it is, we’ll figure out the distance. But if it’s not, then I can just go back and we can’t say we didn’t try. And fuck- Stiles I need to try with you. This is  _something_ , I know it is and I-“

“I love you,” Stiles says, cutting him off. Derek freezes, looking at him warily before the tension dissolves out of him, leaving behind an overwhelming look of relief.

“I love you too.” He breathes it out into the miniscule space between their mouths right before their lips touch.

It’s the most important thing Stiles has ever heard.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! :)
> 
> The title is from Over You By Ingrid Michaelson feat. A Great Big World and was also the thing I listened to on repeat as i wrote it
> 
> As always, characters don't belong to me!


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